Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR.
Rating: PG – 13
Author's Note: I apologize once again for the late update – I am struggling with agonizing dilemmas in my life. Twenty has to be the suckiest age in life. But anyway, sorry for the lateness, and thank you for waiting!
Thank you to Little-Legolas-Lover for reviewing so many of my stories!
Thank you also to anonymous slashlover for reviewing many chapters of Tears of Yesterday! It was a pleasure to see your wonderful reviews. Thank you so much for your flattering compliments – and I'm glad that you read the story the way you wanted to, instead of asking me questions on how to interpret the character relationships or demanding that I make them a certain way. My stories are open to interpretation. Thank you and I'm glad you enjoyed it!
And I thank Erestor for wishing me a happy birthday, and for leaving wonderful reviews for every chapter of the story belatedly! I am glad to hear that you like Thranduil! He is my sweet tooth, you see. And I'm honored to hear that you like my Legolas and Arwen – and to hear that my stories are the re-readable type! I'm delighted! And Erestor and Glorfindel – yes, they are my sweet teeth too! Hehehe. They have important parts to play in this story, as does Thranduil – I hope I don't disappoint you! And you have no reason to be intimidated; you are a fantastically witty author with endless tricks up her sleeve! Thank you so much! It's such a pleasure to see you take a trip down my lane of stories. ;)
And thank you also to Templa Otmena for reviewing Tears of Yesterday on Stories of Arda site...I am sorry to say that the story is down now, because some readers thought it wasn't canon enough and didn't want to see the site being tainted with an AU story, and the moderator asked me to take it down. ;) Oops, haha. Well, read it on the FF net, my dear...;)
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by Kasmi Kassim
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Chapter 5: Ominous Footsteps
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The morning was still dark when Legolas pulled his horse out of the stables. He whispered soothing words and stroked the steed's neck, as the horse looked pointedly at the saddle that was resting on the wooden shelves nearby. Legolas ignored the saddle, and leaped onto the steed's back. Arwen's chestnut brown horse grunted in displeasure at being left behind; glancing back with an apologetic smile, Legolas took a light hold of his horse's mane, and instantly cantered off. The sun was not yet rising.
It had been an uneasy experience, staying in a dark wooden room in a man's lodging – but it was not unbearable. Arwen kept a cheery countenance, and so did he. She was healing well; they would be able to leave soon. He hoped it would be very soon. He was accustomed to the awed stares he received from humans, but did not want to risk staying any longer than necessary with Arwen as his companion. Heeding his warning, Arwen had not stepped out of the room once – not only because she was still weak, but also because Legolas speculated that feminine beauty of that caliber would undoubtedly cause a tremendous stir. The last thing they needed was attention in the human town; they still did not know if they were yet being pursued by those mysterious men.
Which was why he had come out in the break of daylight.
He began to slow his horse down, after having traveled a good distance away from the village. Looking around as his horse ambled on, he creased his brows in concentration, listening and feeling the air for suspicious tremors. He was not surprised when his senses caught human movement nearby. They were being followed.
However, he could no longer avoid them, or try to outrun them. He could not allow Arwen to fight by his side against men who seemed intent on pursuing him; furthermore, Arwen had already taken the brunt of their ill will. Legolas bit his lip thoughtfully. There was no running away, no turning back. For Arwen's protection, he would slay the men if necessary.
Although he prayed it would not come to that.
The wind bit his face. He shook his head, clearing his vision. What did they hope to accomplish? What did they want from him?
Thoughtfully, he swung his horse to another direction, still listening. The men had said something about Mirkwood. And they had attacked as soon as Legolas claimed ties to it. Perhaps they wanted a ransom? But they did not even know who he was; they could not prove to the Mirkwood elves that he was kin. Perhaps they planned to torture him in that case?
With a slight frown, Legolas pensively looked around, ordering his restless mount to be still. The air was impure.
Not only were their intentions suspicious, but their actions were as well. What did they do to him after rendering him unconscious? Why did he regain coherent thought only to find himself running in unknown terror? What had happened?
He looked up toward the rising sun. Perhaps there was nothing extraordinary about it. Perhaps his honed senses had managed to cover for his lack of conscious thought. Perhaps he had fought them off and escaped by instinct. It had happened before.
He sighed. No answers would be forthcoming this way. He began to urge his horse back toward the town.
The only thing of which he was certain was that he had to move away from this human settlement soon, before rumors spread even further about a traveling elf. He and Arwen had to leave fast, and continue on their way for Lorien. Hopefully, they would encounter no further trouble along the way.
He was trotting back toward the village when he spotted a tiny creature moving toward him in a distance. Brows furrowed, he galloped forth to meet the boy. It was the inn boy – Galo.
"Master Elf! Master Elf!" the boy panted, bending down to breathe heavily as he stopped before the horse. "You must come quickly!"
A flash of alarm grazed calm blue eyes. "What happened?" he asked, patting his unnerved horse to keep it still.
The boy was clinging onto the animal's leg for support as he continued to labor his lungs. "Big men came," he panted, "they asked for an elf, and the innkeeper showed them to your room!"
Without warning, Legolas reached down and grabbed the boy's arm. Before the boy could yelp, his small body was swinging in the air, and he landed on the horse's back. The horse broke into a full-speed gallop.
Galo sucked in his breath. He clung fearfully to the horse's neck, narrowing his eyes in the wind, as a brisk tenor rang behind his ears.
"Tell me what happened."
Galo shook his head to clear his eyes of hair. It did not work very well.
"They were dressed dark," he began breathlessly. "They heard of an elf in town, and came to get you-" he coughed as sand assaulted his open mouth.
"And?" The hands around his waist were tense.
"I ran up to your sister's room to tell her that she had company, and she told me to get inside, and locked the door." Galo shook his head again, but only managed to get more hair into his eyes. "She took out a sword and told me to bring you quickly. So I climbed out the window and slid down that big, tall tree by the window."
Legolas' lip slowly rolled between clenched teeth. Arwen was still unwell. She could not fight a band of men alone. He could not leave her to fight alone.
He tightened his hold around the small boy. "Run," he whispered to his galloping steed, desperation lacing his voice. "Run fast."
Please, Arwen, he begged silently, hearing again the bright laughter of his dear friend and sister, be safe...
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A dark-haired elf by the side door announced the young lords of Imladris. The two men looked up quickly, a sparkle entering their eyes. They were once again kneeling on the carpeted floor, treated with polite sternness, awaiting the arrival of the true lords of Rivendell. They needed no meddling advisor to try to take over the elvenlord's role, telling them what to do. Besides, the young lords of the valley, they had heard, were very young. The stars were smiling down upon them today.
As the door opened, the humans bowed their heads, but sneaked a glance upward. From the side entrance appeared two flowing blue robes, flapping vigorously as youthful bodies found their way up to the two high seats that had been prepared in the center of the hall. The identical figures bowed in return, grace outlining their vibrant figures.
The two humans stared. These two were so different from the dark-haired elf from the day before. They held none of the sinister shadow that the previous one had borne. No silent, penetrating gazes. These two were young. Undoubtedly, they were only barely of age. This was going to be easier than they had thought.
The two identical faces turned toward them. Their faces held no distinguishable emotion, but they were not as frightfully blank as the advisor had been either. They bore a light air of composed calm, resting alongside a youthful aura of vigor. Sea blue robes flapped as they seated themselves with casual grace, watching. Then one of them spoke to his twin in a smooth, rolling language that the men could not grasp.
The humans froze in mild panic. They had not realized the previous day that the elves were speaking in the common tongue. They did not realize that they were foreigners here, intruders, perhaps even helpless – until the twins began conversing in their own language, eyes still watching them.
Finally, the two fair faces turned back toward the men. The men swallowed nervously.
One of the twins spoke.
"We understand that you two come to seek sanctuary, and to warn us of danger." The voice was smooth, melodic.
The two men nodded eagerly. Then turned to each other, and snarled.
The other twin spoke. His voice was identical to the first.
"When did you meet Lord Legolas?"
One of the men swallowed. "I met him several days ago – we were in a pub."
The other man hastily joined in. "I met him in the woods of Mirkwood, half a moon from now. He was on horseback. He offered me water, when I was dying of thirst."
The twins did not blink as they listened.
"Then I heard this man boasting in a tavern that he knew where Lord Legolas was – and that he would kill him. So I came after him, and caught up with him here. And I attacked him."
"No, this man lies; I was the one who heard this scoundrel here boast that he was going to take Lord Legolas hostage and use him to get ransom money from Mirkwood."
"My lords, in all honesty-"
"Please, my lords, believe me and punish this vile snake-"
"This man is dangerous-"
"If we let this man loose, we will-"
One of the twins held up his hands. The heated accusations ceased; silence reigned over the hushed hall once again. The elves who lined the walls were watching with intense interest.
The fair youth leaned forward. "What would you ask of us?" His voice was ever calm, the innocent expression open and relaxed.
"Let us see Lord Legolas." The request was made in unison.
The twins looked at each other. They began to converse swiftly in their own tongue. The men watched with a seed of confidence growing in them. The elves before them were young. They would be much easier to sway than the lord of the valley, or that advisor.
Finally, the two looked back toward the humans. One of them spoke, his expression unchanging.
"We shall alert Lord Legolas of this danger when he returns. We thank you both for alerting us, and we condemn you both for plotting against him."
The men's mouths fell open.
"Therefore," said the other twin, "we will not harm either of you, nor hold you prisoner. But you will not set foot in our valley again. Safe journeys. You are dismissed."
The two rose in one smooth movement, and in a swirl of rich sea blue, they were gone, leaving the thunderstruck men to the mercy of the expressionless golden-haired elf who motioned for his warriors to haul them out.
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Thranduil was alone in the path, seated atop his horse with naught but a cloak draped over his thin tunic, when Elrond approached. He was surprisingly calm as he touched his heart. "Well met, Elrond."
Elrond returned the gesture of greeting, and quickly they began to ride toward the castle. The woods were darker than Elrond remembered.
"You were expecting me," said the dark-haired elvenlord, without so much as a sideward glance. Thranduil nodded.
"Dark tidings come from the whispers of the forest. I thought you would send word, though I did not expect you to come yourself."
Elrond urged his horse to move faster. "I wanted to speak to you about your son."
Thranduil did not answer. With a mute nod, he spurred his horse on.
They reached the castle swiftly, navigating shortcuts through which Thranduil guided Elrond. Leaping off of their mounts, the two lords strode inside, Elrond declining the refreshments that Thranduil offered.
"I sensed that he was troubled. Is it something concerning you, Thranduil, or safety of Mirkwood?"
The king guided his guest into his study, and closed the door. "Me." He motioned for Elrond to sit at the table.
While the king approached the cupboard and took out a bottle of wine, Elrond waited patiently in silence. Thranduil turned midway in his collecting of goblets, and looked at Elrond.
"We had a disagreement."
Elrond nodded, silently prompting him to continue.
Thranduil sighed, and came back to the table. Resting the goblets on the polished surface, he began to pour the wine.
"We have many disagreements nowadays."
Elrond nodded again, sympathy adorning his face. "Adolescence," he murmured. Thranduil laughed quietly, running a weary hand over his face as he lowered himself onto a chair facing his companion.
"Aye, adolescence. I never dreamed it would be this difficult."
The lord of Imladris watched carefully as Thranduil lapsed into silence. The king's eyes were troubled. His hand held the goblet of wine but did not bring it to his lips, instead holding it thoughtfully in a steady, swirling motion.
A hand to his knee brought the king back to himself. He blinked, and found the dark-haired elf smiling at him understandingly.
"It will pass. It always does."
Lowering his lashes, Thranduil rested the goblet back on the table with a wistful smile. "Is your daughter as troublesome as my son?"
Elrond laughed. "Let us just say she tends to make good use of her Lorien trips these days."
Thranduil smirked.
The trees did not sing. Elrond realized that the gardens overlooked by the large glass wall seemed darker than usual. He wondered briefly if the king's grief was passing onto the magic-laden land. He sighed, turning back to his friend to lay a hand on top of his.
"Be comforted in knowing that human adolescence is far more turbulent than this." He offered a wry smile. Thranduil shuddered.
"I do not dare imagine."
Elrond chuckled.
With a smile, the elvenking let out a great breath, and slumped in sudden fatigue. His hand was dry and tired.
"There was an incident," he began quietly, finally taking a sip out of his goblet. Thoughtful eyes lingered on the red liquid as he spoke. "A skirmish with orcs. He hesitated before finishing them off, which resulted in many more injuries for his fellow hunters." He took another languorous sip out of his goblet. "He and I had a talk and he left for a walk, and later that evening, he came to me claiming to have met an old man." He paused. "The old man told him about the origin of orcs."
A rigid silence descended upon the room.
Thranduil's eyes were riveted stubbornly on the table as he slowly continued. "After that, he injured an orc during a hunt, but refused to kill it. We had a rather...distressful argument over that one."
"His actions brought further injuries to your guards." Elrond's statement was flat, empty. Thranduil nodded, closing his eyes and leaning back onto his chair.
"He no longer understands why we must continue to fight orcs. He wants to understand them." He smiled ruefully.
Elrond sighed.
Thranduil briskly stood from his seat, and strode over to the window. The sun was setting.
"So we argued, he left to keep his promise to Haldir, and I gather that he went to Imladris to travel with Arwen. That is all. But I presume that you are not here to inquire about our filial disharmonies?" he turned and cocked an eyebrow at Elrond.
Elrond slowly turned in his seat, leaning sideways against the back of the chair and staring back at the king. "Darkness is coming, Thranduil."
Thranduil did not respond. His glittering eyes watched on, silent. Elrond rose and approached him.
"Your relationship is strained, yes, but left like this, you will not be able to stand against the darkness that threatens you both."
The king's eyes were steady as he watched the elvenlord come nearer. He tapped his foot impatiently. "All of it, Elrond."
Elrond smiled faintly. The smile was replaced with a sigh as he sought to remember his vision.
"I saw bloodbath." Elrond joined the king by the window. "But it was more than a massive killing. There was much hatred in it...misunderstanding, sadness, anger, guilt. Orcs and humans."
It took a moment for the king to finally nod. "I thank you for your pains." With a great exhalation, he cocked his head, and a rogue smile appeared on his face. "Let us enjoy Mirkwood festivities, then. I cannot let you go without getting you drunk on our prized wine."
Elrond sighed in mock resignation as the king dragged him out of the room, into the feast hall.
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Arwen clutched the wooden frame of her bed tightly. The knocks were becoming louder and louder. They were shouting now – pounding on the door, they were spilling forth curses and threats of which she could understand less than half. If she had known that humans could be so bad-mannered, and so horribly vulgar, she would not have stayed in this inn. But then again, Legolas was fiercely protective of her – he would not have agreed to spend the night outdoors with her present condition.
But now, departure seemed inevitable. And the sooner the better, it seemed. She glanced out the window.
A thin tree was wavering gently outside the window, occasionally brushing against the dirty glass. The boy – Galo, was it? – had slid down the tree to escape, and Legolas would be able to easily jump up here. But Arwen knew that her injuries would not allow her to perform such a stunt. She could hardly walk with her back erect. She brought her hand to her side. Legolas had changed the bandages this morning, before leaving. She was still asleep when he did it. She smiled wistfully. I believe I could use your help just about now, dear friend.
"Open this door! I know you are in there! Open it!" The voices were boorish. The door strained against the barricade. "Open the door, you Mirkwood elf!"
Arwen crossed her arms, eying the stack of furniture that rested against the trembling door. Though it took a great amount of painful panting and straining to get those in place, it looked as if the table and chairs would not last much longer. She slowly ran her fingers over the blade of her long sword. Legolas had placed the sword by her hands before leaving.
She did not like to draw blood. And Legolas usually spared her the trouble, for he preferred her to stay away from orc encounters unless he called for help. He did not like to have her see his mechanical, calculating, cold-blooded battles. So different from her brothers' maddened frenzy of slaughter. She inhaled slowly. Legolas was kind. He was a healer. But he killed oh so efficiently. So brutally.
But this was another matter. These were men. Not orcs.
There was a difference...wasn't there?
Taking in a deep breath, she gave the sword an experimental swing. Silver light flashed in the morning sun, dancing across the room. She cringed as her side burned with renewed pain.
Would Legolas kill men without a blink of an eye as well?
In all honesty, she did not know. And she did not wish to find out.
The door creaked. A crack burst through, and the wood began to wobble under the pounding of the men's fists. Arwen slowly walked to stand in the center of the room, sword raised. She would not go down without a fight.
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To Be Continued
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Templa Otmena: Oh, I hope the wait was not hard on you! Sorry it took so long and I am, as always, honored and glad that you waited for me ;) How did your interview go? And your ever-continuing job and education frenzy? ;) As for my wedding job, I have the bride being very picky about being all classical in her music selections, and the bride's friend who is inserting her opinions everywhere and making life even more difficult...and of course, the church that says 'no secular music, only classical' – obviously the church people don't know much about music....hmph...anyway, I play the violin, the viola, and the piano. Anyway, I am so glad to hear that you did not fall down the stairs! Thank the stars you are getting better. Are you all healed yet? Get better soon!
Coolio02: Hi there! Glad to see you again! I now wonder how you are reacting to those men ;) Thank you for the review!
merrymagic26: Oh, I am glad to hear that it's getting better! I will try hard not to disappoint! Thank you!
Brazgirl: Yes, I thought you would be frustrated somewhat with the Thranduil part....hehehe. There was a healthy dose of Thranduil in this chapter, eh? Glad to hear from you again!
elvingirl3737: I'm glad you approve! Thank you for telling me so!
Unsung Heroine: Yes, aren't long chapters just lovely? ;) It is a relief to hear that I am doing decently in my Arwen development. Thank you!
